


The Stars In Your Eyes

by Rikki_Ray



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Porn with Feelings, Smut, The Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikki_Ray/pseuds/Rikki_Ray
Summary: You always tried to expect the unexpected with Caboose, but this takes the cake.
Relationships: Michael J. Caboose/Reader, Michael J. Caboose/You
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! I split it into two chapters so it's easier to read and not lose your place. Enjoy~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lopez translations are at the bottom.

You love space; it’s vast, open, beautiful, and yet terrifying. It reminds you of the ocean. It has an appealing lure, but it holds its dangers. And you were a sucker for the dangerous temptations of space. Which is why you signed up to be a Chorus’ first Cargo Pilot. The war on Chorus has long passed, and peace has been restored, thus, leaving more space-travel jobs open as airspace was no longer a kill zone. There are still some present hostilities between previous factions. But, compared to tensions during the beginning of the war, everyone is in a much better place now. All thanks to the assistance of the Reds and Blues. 

To accommodate and thank the troopers for their efforts, Kimball gave them residence on Chorus’s moon, Cephane. It would be their retirement home for as long as they wished. Being a distance away from civilization, however, leads to difficulties in replenishing supplies. Which is where you come in.

Being the only Cargo Pilot means you have your hands full with transporting building material, food, and artillery to the rest of the planet as well as the war heroes. Which means long trips through space to reach Chorus’ moon. You love it. Although the shortage of Pilots makes your job very difficult. And given that the Reds and Blues don’t need resupplies, except once every few months, you don’t get much space travel time.

However, today is your lucky day. The Reds and Blues are due for a supply drop. Currently, you’re en route to Cephane. Your ship, originating from the first settlers on Chorus, is bulky and old. As such, your speed is drastically lacking compared to the Pelicans or Falcons of Chorus. This extends your journey home (an estimated 24 hours for any standard, up-to-date spacecraft) to two days with your Cargo ship. Yet, you never complained. While the inky blackness of the universe intimidated others or lost its charm after a few years for seasoned pilots, you never got bored of those stars. And the chance to spend two days in its realm was too good to complain about.

You treasured these trips. It’s nice to be alone, surrounded by billions of twinkling lights and far off galaxies that paint the cosmos. It is also an excellent way to relax after tight schedules, rude consumers, and short sleeping hours. You honestly can’t remember the last time you had a decent sleep, but you aren’t about to catch up on some Z's up here. Not when you could miss such a beautiful sight. 

Leaning forward in the pilot seat, you flip autopilot on. The light illuminates the console, and the seat buckle symbol shines green. You unlock the strap around your middle, sighing as you relax in your seat.

The next 48 hours were blissful, but the stars aren't the only thing you looked forward to on these trips. There is a particular blue soldier you've become well acquainted with over the last few trips. In the beginning, you found the job just as another meaningless task that ate up your delivery schedule. Your time was thin as it was. But, fate has ways of making the stressful interesting. 

Your very first delivery on Cephane left you winded. After being introduced to, what you thought was everyone, you were suddenly greeted by another. You say ‘greet’ as if you two shook hands and exchanged a civilized conversation, but really it was more to the equivalent of an excited Doberman tackling you to the ground. With a grip stronger than Hercules, a soldier in dark blue had squeezed the air out of you, spouting a thousand words a minute. He had to be pried off of you by one of the war heroes, you weren’t sure who because your head was still reeling from the impact. 

Tucker had been the one to introduce the excited man to you. “This is Caboose.” He said. You found it very appropriate that his name is about trains because it had felt like one just hit you. 

Ever since that interaction with Caboose, he has made it a point to energetically greet you upon landing every time. At first, you found it annoying and downright tiring, but after a year of it, you began to look forward to seeing the man. It was hard enduring the hugs though, especially when he was in full body armor, sharp edges and all. You brought it up to him a few months ago. You figured (and hoped) that he’d cease the hugging all together. You’d never seen him take his armor off ever, so you assumed it was a preference of his. Therefore, the most logical solution would be for him to stop the bear hugs. Instead, he opted to do the unexpected and be rid of the constricting armor. 

Somehow that was worse. The first time you saw him without his iconic dark blue armor, you almost dropped the crate you were carrying for Lopez. It apparently had delicate machinery in it (depending on how the mechanic began cursing at you for your slip-up), but you couldn’t care to listen. All your senses were locked onto the unfamiliar man jogging up to you. Not only was he well built, but his adorable freckles and curly hair caused your heart to slam against your ribcage at a dangerous speed. You thought it couldn’t get any worse (or rather better), but then the man _smiled._ He smiled _at you._ You remember wondering if you were dead because this man was surely an angel. Then, he spoke. 

“(Y/n)!” 

Saying you were shocked was an understatement. Caboose had rushed forward and crushed you into another hug, squeezing what little air was left in you out. Once he had let you go, you had a hard time forming words. Your lack of response hadn’t fazed him in the least. Resuming the usual custom of greeting you, he rattled to you about what had happened over the past month. Your eyes were trained on his lips and jaw the whole time. You couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to have that mouth on your own.

Immediately, you felt the need to take a bath in the river Jordan because the thoughts that flooded your mind made you feel absolutely dirty. Especially when the main focus of it was sweet, precious, and innocent Caboose. You were certain Lopez had noticed your stare, and maybe some drool because he muttered an audible, “Dios mío.” 

You're brought out of your thoughts, and pulled back down to Earth (figuratively, of course,) as you begin to approach Cephane’s atmosphere. Pushing the memory of Caboose’s dangerously tempting lips, you reach to turn on your radio. Grabbing the transmitter, you call into the Reds and Blues’ base.

“Reds and Blues this is Cargo Ship Alpha. Requesting landing.”

The line remains silent.

Wrinkling your nose, you flip a few switches and dials, increasing your range of communication. “Reds and Blues, this is Cargo Ship Alpha, do you copy?”

Still nothing. You purse your lips.

It was a tradition for the Reds to ignore your calls on the radio, but ever since Washington had said he took over operating the station, that “tradition” had been abandoned. Perhaps he was out of earshot?

You try once more. Still no response. You sigh and turn off the communication device. Despite Washington's absence on the receiver, you would continue to land. There was a chance that the Reds were manning the control room while Washington was away. If that was so, you’d be clear to land. You had done so for a year without any problems, this shouldn’t be any different. Re bulking yourself, you turn off autopilot and resume control of your ship.

You enter the atmosphere, enduring the rough entry as you carefully guide your spacecraft towards the ground. You ease the bulky ship down towards a wide-open field. In the middle of it sits the soldiers’ base. You veer closer, lowering the landing gear as you hover over a large tarmac located to the side. You ease into place. 

Once you touch down, you go through the lengthy process of turning your engines down before completely shutting off all systems. You then unbuckle yourself from your seat. Making your way outside your ship, you head for the main cargo doors. You try to ignore the way your heart flutters at the thought of seeing Caboose's bright smile again. Other than the stars and galaxies you see in space, his smile is the best part of the trip. It’s been a few months since your last visit (mostly due to resource constraints), and you can’t wait to see him. 

With the cargo doors now open, you lift heavy boxes out, placing them on the tarmac. While you slowly unpack, you notice something peculiar. Caboose hasn’t come to greet you yet, nor have any of the other Reds and Blues. Straightening your back, you observe the massive facility, eyes searching for movement. All is quiet and still. You wait for a moment racking your brain for a possible solution. 

Did something happen? Is everyone gone? Is that why no one answered the—

Your panic is shattered when a door swings open harshly from the barracks building. An angry Tucker storms out, heading towards the rolling hills on the other side of the base. Quickly following behind him is Agent Washington. You blink in surprise. You can’t tell what he says to the man, but his tone sounds insistent.

Confused and a little concerned, you debate walking over to figure out what’s happened. You almost do, but after considering your options, you decide it’s best if you don’t. You are a Pilot. Your only job is to get the crates here and be back in time for the next delivery. A friendship with Caboose is just a latent function of the job (even though it’s arguably one of the best results from it). He is the only connection you have with the war-heroes, therefore, you don’t think the team, especially Carolina, would appreciate you asking questions about anyone other than Caboose. It isn’t your business to know. 

As hard as it is to curb your curiosity, you remain where you are and continue to unpack the crates. It doesn’t stop you from glancing up every few seconds to check on the building. Upon the hundredth glance up, you notice a warthog with a trailer attached, making its way towards you. Your heart stutters for a moment, hoping that it might be Caboose. You quickly focus your attention on the figure sitting in the front seat, heart rising a little in excitement, only for it to settle back down in your sternum. It’s only Carolina. A little disappointed, you set a heavy crate down on the ground with a thud.

When the super-soldier reaches you, she backs the trailer up near your position, to better load the crates. Exiting the vehicle, she offers what you think is a smile, but it comes off as a grimace. You pretend not to notice. You both work in tense silence, moving the crates from the back of the cargo ship to the trailer. As you do, you keep glancing up, checking for Caboose. He’s never late in greeting you. Why was today different? It’s a little worrisome. 

You flick your gaze over to Carolina. Perhaps you could ask? Surely it’d be alright. There wouldn’t be breaching into unknown territory nor trudging into topics that don’t concern you if you just asked about him.

“Do you know where Caboose is?”

The sudden tensing of the redhead’s muscles doesn’t go unnoticed. Nor does her terse expression. _I spoke too soon._ You think.

“Inside,” she admits after a pause. 

The shortness of her answer causes a seedling of worry to take root. You crane your head over your shoulder to observe the barracks again. You have no idea which room is his, so you have no way of knowing where he’d be located. Not that any of the team would let you inside to look for him... You’ll admit that you’ve grown incredibly fond of Caboose, probably more than you should be, and the fact that he’s strayed away from his usual routine makes you concerned.

Would it be too much to ask another question? To get more clarification? You don’t want to push your luck, you knew the redhead had a temper, but you couldn’t stand it. 

“Is he sick?” You venture after a moment of silence.

“No.” She says. Another curt answer. She moves towards the cargo doors, taking hold of one of the more giant crates, tugging it along. 

You chew your lip. You’re aware that you might be poking a bear with a stick. Perhaps you should word your next question differently, vaguer.

“Does he know I’m here?”

Carolina lets the crate fall heavily on the concrete, making a loud and aggressive _THUD_. 

You flinch.

“Must you ask so many questions?” Her voice is like ice. 

“...Sorry, Ma’am.” You mumble.

The air between you is now awkward and tense. Your skin pricks with unease. By the time you unload all of the crates onto the trailer, Carolina finally breaks the unwieldy atmosphere. She turns to you with dull pain in her eyes. You stare back, a little unsure of what she intends to say or do. 

The woman sighs, “It’s Church.” She rubs the bridge of her nose, eyebrow twitching.

The name rings a bell. You’ve never met him, but you do know him from Caboose’s stories and from the war, but mostly Caboose. Church was all he seemed to talk about.

You expect Carolina to continue, but she doesn’t. Curious, but valuing your life, you tread carefully. 

“I see,” you reply, your voice conveying a respectful, sympathetic tone.

“He brought Church up again, and Tucker, kind of...” she trails off, trying to find the right words. “He was irate,” She decides on. You can see the complicated emotions that flick in her eyes as she speaks. 

Your eyebrows furrow in concern, taking another peek at the barracks. You wonder if one of those windows belongs to Caboose’s room.

“It’s been difficult for everyone.” She finishes, closing the gate of the trailer and locking it securely, “Especially Caboose.”

“Why specifically Caboose?” 

You almost regret opening your mouth. Her shoulders tense again, and she’s silent. Shoot, you should’ve thought about your words more carefully. Carolina obviously doesn’t want to get into specifics, that’s why she’s using vague answers in the first place! You mentally scold yourself.

After an agonizingly quiet moment, Carolina decides that your question is merited because she answers it.

“He doesn’t believe he’s really dead.” Her voice is hollow, and if you didn’t know any better, you might think it cracks with emotion.

You’re surprised. While Caboose regularly spoke about his old friend with you, he never mentioned his sacrifice directly. You knew about it, of course. What soldier didn’t? Everyone heard the announcement over the receiver from Kimball. Caboose never talked about it with you, though.

“So...He’s in denial.” You clarify. 

The redhead nods. She’s still standing with her back to you, hands grasping the lock of the trailer. “Has been since the fight. We don’t...tell him otherwise; it’s just easier for him that way.”

You find yourself nodding in agreement despite knowing that Carolina can’t see it.

The super soldier moves, at last, making her way to the front of the warthog. You hesitate briefly. Usually, this is when Caboose would sit with you down in the grass and talk while Carolina or Wash would take the supplies back to the base. It felt... _off_ to not partake in the typical tradition.

You find yourself stuck in your spot as you stare towards the building Caboose resides in. You wish you could see him. Even for a little bit. Now that you know he’s probably hiding in his room to cope, it’s hard to resist the urge to go check on him. That’s not your place, though. You’re just a Pilot. It’s out of the question and disrespectful to even ask. You’re of a lower rank, too. You don’t have clearance—

Carolina clears her throat, staring expectantly at you. You twist your head back around, blinking a few times. You’re uncertain of what she means to tell you with her silent gaze.

After a moment of considering you, she waves you closer. “Come on.”

Feeling a little shocked, you gap at her for the briefest of seconds. Carolina just gave you permission to enter their base. She’s letting you see Caboose. Your heart picks up in your ribcage.

Carolina narrows her eyes at your lack of movement. “Well?”

You break out of your trace, stumbling over an apology as you climb into the hog’s passenger side. As you buckle up, you glance back at your ship and the still open cargo door. The words, “Wait, let me close it up” are on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them. You don’t want Carolina to change her mind. The ship will be fine on its own.

**.x.**

Once you park near the center of the four buildings constructed, Carolina unbuckles and hops out. As you do the same, you can see Washington approaching her. 

“So?” Carolina asks him in a low voice.

He sighs, “He’s still pretty angry, but I told him to just avoid Caboose for a while until he gets his anger in check.” 

“That’s your solution?” Carolina replies, agitated.

Wash shrugs, “It’s Tucker, he doesn’t respond to empathy.”

She grumbles under her breath. 

They both turn to look at you. You pretend like you weren’t just eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Mind helping us unload?” Carolina asks you, pointing to Wash. You nod your head in agreement. The three of you work in silence. Your eyes stray up and over every once in a while to the barracks. You thought Carolina was taking you to see Caboose, but maybe you were wrong? 

You ignore the pit in your stomach as you work, trying not to think about how Caboose is handling the situation alone. For all you know, he’s crying in his room because of what Tucker said. Whatever that may be. A spark of anger ignites in your belly, but you push it down. You couldn’t jump to conclusions...Besides, you don’t know if Tucker said anything to hurt his feelings. Hell, Caboose might’ve not even picked up on harsh words at all. He was pretty oblivious sometimes. These consoling thoughts did nothing to stop you from worrying, though.

After emptying the trailer and helping Carolina and Washington stack them in the storage building, you walk back outside with Carolina. You assume she’s taking you back to the ship. She hasn’t made any indication that she is going to let you inside as you had initially thought. Saddened, and a little irritated, you move to get back in the warthog.

Carolina stops you with a hand on your shoulder. You look at her, confused. She nods towards the barracks. Heart rising in your chest and your legs feeling a little lighter, you follow her. Carolina leads you inside, walking through the halls. She knocks on the fifth door down, waiting. You hear a sad voice reply to her knock. 

“Please, go away.” 

Caboose. 

Your heart drops at how sad he sounds.

Like an idiot with a death wish, you press closer to the door, forcing Carolina back. “Caboose? It’s me (Y/n). Can I-”

The door opens before you get the chance to finish your question. You’re engulfed in large arms and lifted up into the air. Your limbs are squeezed against your sides uselessly as Caboose holds you tightly against his chest. Your eyes bulge in surprise.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n), I’ve missed-I’ve missed you so much!” he trips over his words as he speaks to you. His voice sounds thick. “Freckles missed you too!” 

Being pressed against him and held up high, you’re able to look directly over his shoulder and into his room. His tiny pet robot is standing on the dresser, and although he doesn’t have a face or human emotions, you can feel his glare.

You smile awkwardly at the bot, “I missed you both too!”

With one final squeeze, Caboose puts you down. A broad smile graces his adorable face and—oh. Your grin drops into a concerned frown. Despite his genuine smile at seeing you, his eyes are red and puffy, and the mirth doesn’t quite reach them. You feel your heart clench in pain.

“What’s wrong? I’m not in my underwear, am I? Oh, nope, I’m good! Oh wait--there’s ice cream on my face isn’t there? Yeah, I snuck some of Grif’s chocolate-chip from the fridge. He’s...he’s gonna be pretty mad when he finds out,” he chokes a bit around his words, trying to breathe evenly to calm himself down. His tone is thick and heavy, like his nose is stuffy. The realization that Caboose was crying _and_ eating ice cream by himself in his room, _in the dark,_ made your heart sink even lower. By now, the organ has reached your toes.

You shake your head, “No-No, there’s no ice cream on your face...” His smile breaks out once more, but it’s not as genuine as before. 

“That’s good,” he sniffs. He glances behind you, causing you to look back as well. You nearly forgot that Carolina is still here. She gently gives you both a smile. “I’ll leave you both alone.” The kindness behind her words and facial expression shock you. She moves her hand up towards Caboose and ruffles his hair. He hiccups. If it weren’t for the pain in his eyes, you would’ve called the sound cute.

As Carolina leaves, Caboose pulls you into his room. He drags you beside him on the bed. You find yourself staring at him as he stares at the floor, wiping tears from his cheeks hurriedly as if he forgot he was crying and is attempting to cover it up. He looks miserable. Desperate to change the expression on his face, you scoot closer to him and place a hand on his forearm.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

He stares at you for a second, debating his response. You can see the glimmer of tears behind his eyes. “No,” he meekly whimpers. Your heart nearly shatters as his tears fall again. You feel like a jackass for even asking that.

You begin to panic, trying to think of a way to turn this trainwreck around until the soldier quickly wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. His voice chokes behind a lump in his throat. You don’t even hesitate before returning the hug with as much strength as he does. It’s a little tricky, given that he’s got your arms pinned to your sides, but you try your damned hardest. Feeling the need to hold him close and comfort him properly, you try to slide your arms out to wrap around his neck. At your movement, Caboose whimpers, clinging a bit tighter to your form. Your heart stutters in empathy. 

Gently, you slip one of your arms out, to let him know you aren’t leaving, but readjusting. When he understands this, he relaxes into you, allowing your last arm free. Wrapping your limbs around his broad back, you gently rub his spine. He inhales shakily, shoulders trembling in a silent sob as you tug him closer to you. 

Instead of speaking or trying to give him encouraging words, you let him cry into your shoulder. You know he doesn’t need you to talk or to listen. He just needs your company, even if it’s silent.

As the minutes tick by, Caboose slowly sinks into your lap, strong arms locked around your waist, sniffling. His face is pressed into your stomach and left leg, his noises muffled. 

Absentmindedly, your fingers trace images and meaningless symbols on his back before trailing up into his fluffy hair. His shaking has ceased, and his breathing is even again, but you continue to gently rub his scalp, running your nails lightly through his locks. You’re not aware of the time at this point, it all blurs together until you look out the dorm window and see that the sky has tints of orange and pink in it. Shocked that you’ve been here so long, you look down in your lap at Caboose. He’s sound asleep. He’s stopped crying, so you’d say that’s a win.

Glancing back up at the window, you sigh. If it is sunset now, that meant you were hours behind schedule. After sitting for probably 3 hours straight, you stiffly move from under Caboose. You expect him to wake up or stir in his sleep, but he remains knocked out. 

A sad smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. He’s so emotionally worn out he’s dead asleep. Your brain prepares your body to move out the door, but your legs don’t respond to its command. Instead, you remain standing, observing Caboose’s short, dark curls as they fall against his forehead and the bedsheets. 

Without realizing what you’re doing, you bend down, pulling your hair from your face. You move to place a gentle kiss on his cheek but think better of it. Freckles is still very much glaring at you and has been ever since you arrived. So, instead, you place it on top of his head. 

Exiting the room, you walk back down the hallways of the war heroes’ base as quickly as possible. Leaving the compound, you start jogging across the expanse between you and your ship. You run around its backside, reaching for the cargo door on the side of the ship when you hear someone sputter somewhere behind you.

Confused, you turn to see the red team staring back at you. Sarge holds the ends of jumper cables in each hand, and Grif is sitting down on the ground next to...Well, you wouldn’t exactly call it a robot, but with two legs at the bottom and two arm-like shapes coming out the sides, what else could it be? It’s a mess, to say the least, and it’s lying not ten feet away from the Cargo Ship with wires coming out from it and leading…

Following the trail with your eyes, you slowly connect the dots as you see the opposite ends of the jumper cables hooked up to your aircraft.

“What—” You begin.

“Simmons, now!” Sarge shouts, cutting you off. He scrabbles to put the clamps down on the robot. As he does so, you faintly register the voice of the maroon soldier shouting “Wait” before a loud crackling and popping sound emits from the back underside of your transportation. Jumping in alarm, you take a giant leap back from your now sparking ship.

You watch in both disbelief and horror as your engine explodes.

You yelp and duck for cover, throwing your hands over your head.

Simmons flies backward, yelping in alarm as the fire singes his fingers.

“Shit!” He shakes his hand before putting the burnt tips of his fingers in his mouth. He turns, probably to yell at Sarge for hooking up the pile of robotics too soon to the engine, but his rebuke dies in his throat at the sight of you.

You’re panting, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you stare in shock at your ship. Your ears are ringing. Turning, you lock eyes with Simmons.

“Uh...hi?” He mutters sheepishly.

“What the hell?!” You shout. “Are you serious, I'm already behind and you—you just fucking blew up my ship!” Despite the shock that your body is experiencing, your voice has no problem rising with anger.

Sarge coughs, waving smoke from his face, “Relax tiny, we only blew up your engine! Easy fix!”

“No, it's _not!”_ you argue. Your Cargo Ship is ancient. How it’s managed to hold together _this_ long is a mystery to you. Whatever spit, grit, and magic that was holding it together are now long gone. A sheet of metal along the siding falls off near Simmons. 

Sarge makes a dismissive noise, “Just get Lopez, he can fix anything. I don't have time to listen to your problems kid, I have a robot to rebuild.” The Colonel yanks the jumper cables and wires from the hunk of metal. “Since _someone_ blew up his fuse box!” He adds, casting a disapproving glance towards Simmons.

You open your mouth, preparing to shout every obscenity you know, but you hear footsteps running up from behind. Whirling, you see Washington skirt around the nose of your ship.

“What the Hell was that, is everyone okay?!” he asks.

“Sarge just blew up my ship!” You reply, stumbling to your feet, pointing an accusing finger at the culprit.

You both look at Sarge, who's currently trying to ignore the two of you and pick up his deformed robot. Grif is sitting thirty feet away, listlessly watching the scene play out. Simmons at least has the dignity to look ashamed.

Wash runs his hands up his face and tangles his fingers in his hair. Sighing loudly, he tugs at the roots.

“Sarge, go get Lopez.”

“What!?”

“Now!”

The impatient and angry tone makes your hair stand on end. You've never seen Wash angry before. Carolina? Sure, but not Wash. He always seemed level-headed.

Sarge grumbles to himself, dropping his robot with a loud _CLANG,_ sulking away to fetch the mechanic. 

“Simmons, call into (Y/n)'s command center and let them know why their _only_ pilot is going to be late.” Wash continues, staring him down.

“Yessir,” he meekly answers. 

“And you—” Wash turns his piercing stare towards the other captain, “Take whatever _that_ is and throw it into the scrap pile!” He jabs a finger towards the lump of robotics.

“Wha—But I’m innocent—”

“I gave you an order, soldier!”

“You're not our commanding officer—”

“Do I need to get Carolina?” Wash threatens, his voice rising. That shuts him up. Grumpily, Grif grabs the robot by one of its limbs and starts to drag it away. Puffing, he tugs at it, the sound of it scraping the ground is horrendous. 

Turning back to you, Agent Washington sighs, rubbing his eyes. Honestly, he never looked so tired.

“Sorry about your ship. I can barely control what they do anymore. It's like babysitting a bunch of bratty toddlers,” he tells you. You consider patting his shoulder in comfort but decide against it.

“Thanks for helping out,” you reply instead, looking at your smoking engine compartment. Once more, you hear footsteps coming up from behind you. You begin to turn, expecting Lopez, but are tackled to the ground with such force that it knocks the wind out of you. You gasp. Confused and disoriented, your eyes search for a face to put the blame onto but meet Caboose’s wide and terrified eyes. He all but drags you away from your ship, mumbling incoherent phrases.

“Caboose—” You gasp, still trying to get your breath back. 

“Oh my god, I heard—I heard a bomb—Are you okay—you weren't there when I—what happened to your ship—”

You try to gain his attention, to ask him to let go, but he only holds your face close to his chest, muffling your words.

Wash tries to assist you and calm him down, but Caboose ignores him. Without warning, the curly-haired man yanks you away from his chest, staring at you with wide eyes. The sight almost breaks your heart.

His eyes are glassy, and his eyebrows are pinched together. He looks like a little kid who just lost their puppy. It suddenly clicks in the back of your mind that Caboose woke up from the explosion and, upon seeing you missing, assumed the worst had happened.

Feeling your heart ache, you quickly grab his face, locking eyes with him. Soothingly, you stroke your thumb across his cheek.

“Caboose, deep breaths, it’s okay. I'm okay. Nothing happened to me,” you soothe, having gained your capacity to breathe again.

He’s panting harshly as he stares back at you. You continue uttering similar, calming phrases until you see his shoulders relax some. Pulling you back in a hug, he tugs you a little further away from the ship. You let him.

As you hug him back, you lift your eyes from the ground. Wash is still standing there, watching this all play out. He seems concerned for both of you but doesn’t intervene. 

Flicking your eyes to your left, you can see Lopez making his way towards your group, toolbox in hand. When he stands beside Wash and catches sight of your ship, he groans heavily and approaches the hull. You attempt to follow the movement with your eyes, but it’s hard when Caboose has you locked in his arms.

“How long till we can get it up and running?” Wash asks him.

“No sé. Todavía no he podido mirarlo—”

“Wait, sorry, I have no way of translating what you’re saying, Lopez…”

The mechanic stops speaking to glare at him. “Entonces no me hagas preguntas estúpidas.”

You can hear him tinkering with your ship, probably trying to assess the damages. You feel the need to help; after all, it’s your ship, and he’s but one mechanic. However, breaking out of Caboose's arms provides a particular challenge.

You try to pry Caboose's arms away from you, but you might as well be trying to bend metal bars. He isn't letting go anytime soon.

“Wash, little help?” You ask, still trying to free yourself from Caboose’s hold. When he attempts to approach the freckled man, he takes two giants steps back from Wash in fear, stuttering a fast and quick, “No!” 

Wash pauses. You can’t see his expression, but you can tell his silence means he’s thinking.

“It might be best if you both just went back inside.” He says.

You crane your neck as best as you can. “Are you sure?”

He nods, “Yeah. I’ll stay and help Lopez.”

“Oh, sí, serás de gran ayuda,” Lopez mutters sarcastically.

**.x.**

Back inside, Caboose has you on his bed. He’s yet to let go of you, and you’re forced to sit awkwardly in his lap. You try to think of something to say, to break the silence, but you’re at a loss. It probably has to do with the fact that you’re sitting in a tall, attractive man’s lap. Granted, that man is Caboose, but the embarrassment is still there. Not to mention nervousness.

You’ve made it a point to never push your feelings on Caboose in fear of him believing he should hold the same for you. Caboose was impressionable and tended to agree or go along with anything his team members said.

“Just stand there and hold this target.” Sarge would tell him.

“Do me a favor and throw this as hard as you can at Tucker.” Grif coerced.

“I need you to play the quiet game,” Wash said another time.

All requests that Caboose filled to the T without complaint. Both because he was asked by his friends, and he perceived their request as something they genuinely wanted. The last thing you wanted, however, was accidentally coercing Caboose into a relationship. So you kept your mouth shut. It did make situations like this difficult to handle, though.

Caboose isn’t exactly aware of what men and women do together in private and therefore doesn’t see anything wrong with holding you the way he is. But you do. And it’s nerve-wracking.

You’re trying to simultaneously comfort the poor man after his scare and keep your disgusting mind out of the gutter. This isn’t the time to be fantasizing and it is most definitely selfish to even consider it. You’d repeatedly slam the palm of your hand into your forehead if Caboose didn’t have his arms wrapped tightly around your torso. He hunches over you, causing you to bend awkwardly with him. Your spine and neck begin to protest.

“Caboose?”

He gives a muffled reply, a non-cohesive murmur of acknowledgment. He keeps his face pressed in your hair.

“Can you straighten up a tad? My back hurts,” you request quietly.

His arms stiffen around you briefly before you feel him pull back a few inches. You gratefully stretch your spine. Movement is still restricted, and you aren’t able to twist around to face him, but you have a bad feeling he is close to crying again.

All remains quiet after that. It is hard to endure when you’ve grown accustomed to Caboose’s chattiness. It’s strange for him to be the complete opposite. Worrisome too. As you’re debating on what to say, to distract him from his thoughts, he breaks the silence. His voice is so quiet and fragile.

“Will you have to leave soon?” His voice is thick.

Your heart stutters. “No-No, I’m not. I might actually be here a while.” You feel the exhale of breath on your neck at his relief. The sensation causes goosebumps to rise, but you force the thoughts accompanying them down. 

You shift in his lap, your leg going numb underneath you. You feel Caboose’s arms tug you a little closer. “That’s good,” he sighs, his voice wavering. You can hear him sniffle behind you, attempting to keep his tears at bay.

Unable to endure his sad tone, you force yourself to turn in his arms. It was difficult as he reacted the same as last time, tightening his grip in anxiousness. You manage to wriggle around enough to see him in the corner of your eye. He meets your gaze with an exhausted and sorrowful expression. 

Eyebrows pinched together in pain, you lift your hands up from your lap and rest one on his left arm, currently wrapped around your torso. The other wiggles out of Caboose’s grip to caress his cheek. He leans into it almost immediately. As though a dam broke, his tears spill. He crumples around you, hands clutching fistfuls of your shirt, shoulder’s trembling.

You nearly cry with him, hurt by his own pain. 

“He’s not gone.” You hear him mumble to himself. “He just went away for a while. He’s not gone.” He repeats it like a mantra, his grip tugging you closer as he cries on your shoulder. 

You’re shocked at his words, brine stinging at the corners of your eyes as you watch and feel him weep. You can’t do anything but console him with gentle murmurs.

You debate agreeing with him, telling him that his friend isn’t gone, that he is okay, but the responsible adult in you kept your mouth closed. Deep down, you know that isn't a healthy way for Caboose to cope, and you can't encourage that kind of thinking either. But damn if it isn’t hard. Hearing Caboose grieving next to your ear takes a massive toll on your heart. 

Salty tears begin to slip down your own face as you and Caboose hold each other. You wish you could ease his pain, but you know the mourning process would take time. It needs to run its course.

You lost all track of time as Caboose sat with you in the fading light, the room darkened as the sun dipped further over the horizon. Soon there is no light, just the feeling of the dark brunette’s warm body pressed against yours. His sobs have stopped, but now he is gently rocking back and forth with you. The movements are so reserved and minuscule, shy like Caboose’s current demeanor. He keeps his face from yours, either buried in your neck, shoulder, or resting on top of your crown. 

Eventually, you began to drift off into a foggy haze, mind traveling nowhere as you gaze off into the darkened room. You vaguely wonder if Carolina or Washington are concerned about your prolonged disappearance. You haven’t heard anyone near the hallways since you arrived, and it doesn’t seem like that will change. You could only praise the universe that you don't have to relieve yourself right now. You don’t think Caboose would have let you go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “No sé. Todavía no he podido mirarlo—”   
> "I don't know. I haven't been able to look at it yet."
> 
> “Entonces no me hagas preguntas estúpidas.”  
> "Then don't ask me stupid questions."
> 
> “Oh, sí, serás de gran ayuda.”  
> "Oh yes, you'll be a great help."


	2. Chapter 2

It’s been dark for hours. Your body is stiff from your odd position under Caboose. Given his tall and broad frame, he had to crunch himself down just to overlap you. You couldn’t imagine how his own muscles must feel.

Body, and sore bum, protesting, you grunt and shift within Caboose’s lap. He shuffles as well, his rocking pausing. He doesn’t move, causing you brief confusion. You push it aside as your legs tingle with renewed sensation. Blood-flow returning to your legs, you stretch them out as best you can, having to lean your spine back into Caboose’s chest to balance.

He leans back as well, giving you more space. You hear a faint hiss of pain escape from his nose. Your heart hiccups, wondering if you have somehow hurt him. Sitting in his lap for hours couldn’t be comfortable for him either. Coming to the conclusion that you probably had pinched his skin by your squirming, you jerk forward. Twisting, you open your mouth to apologize. 

He doesn’t respond to your apology at first, the dark doing nothing for you to help gauge his expression or emotions. A beat. 

“Caboose?” You question the figure behind you. 

“What—” He stops, voice dying in his throat in confusion. Your nose crinkles in bemusement at his hesitance. 

“Caboose?” You coax, trying to find the source of his face in the murkiness.

“I—What…”

“Did I hurt you?” You clarify, concerned.

“I don’t...I don’t know.” He sounds baffled.

His arms have long removed themselves from you, hovering a few inches away from your body. Allowed to move freely, you twist your torso further—

“Ah!” He gasps, flinching against you in surprise.

You glance around in the dark where you assume his body is. What did you touch? A sore muscle? An old bruise, perhaps? Your body lingers a breath’s distance away from his lap, afraid you’ll cause another pinch of nerves. “What?” You ask, hands floating near his arms, attempting to pinpoint where you harmed him.

“My-my dick—”

Your head reels, breath frozen in your lungs as you feel a ten-ton of brick hit you in the face. Caboose, your precious, innocent Caboose, just said dick. That’s  _ absurd, _ where would he— _ Who _ told him that? The name Tucker ricochets inside your skull. You would’ve accepted the word ‘penis’ or even ‘weaner’ from Caboose, but not  _ that. _ As your brain attempts to justify what you just heard come out of his mouth, the man continues his confusing dialogue.

“—It feels funny.”

Shock is shoved aside to make room for more information. You’re forced to process his meaning. You’re dismayed as you realize what has happened. But there’s no way. Incredulous and brash, you reach down without thinking, without even  _ considering _ the cons. 

There’s another grunt from Caboose, a grunt that sounds suspiciously (ludicrously) like a moan. You yank your hand back as though it were burned. Your ears burn in shame. What were you thinking, why the hell did you touch him!? Touch  _ it!?  _ Like an ancient computer, your brain chugs as it reworks its system, trying desperately to come up with the next course of action. You’re drawing a blank.

“What—” He gasps, taking in a deep, shaky breath.

“Caboose, I shouldn’t be here,” you cut him off, trying to rise. It’s best if you distance yourself, get some air, reevaluate things.

A hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist with an iron grip. “No!” His terrified and heartbroken voice pulls you back. So does his grip. You forgot how strong he is, apparently, so did he. He practically yanks you off your weak, still tingling legs, and you fall on top of him. 

Your nose crashes into his chest, a twinge of pain flashing up the bridge. You groan, sprawled on top of him.

He mutters apologies profusely, hands trying to bring you up. You attempt to reassure him, holding your nose as the heat and stinging tears subside. Your arm helps you to hover over him as you nurture your cartilage.

“I-It’s okay, Caboose.”

Your mind is still woozy, floored by the revelation that Caboose has a hard-on. You didn’t even think that was possible. It shouldn’t be!

You mutter his name, bringing his apologetic ramblings to an end.

“Why are you…?” You struggle to even voice your question. By his gentle quietness, you’re aware that you need to finish your question for him to understand what you’re struggling to ask.

“Why is your...Your  _ penis _ like that?” You can't bring yourself to say the same synonym as him. It feels too dirty to speak in front of him. Too dirty to hear him say it.

He’s suddenly anxious, panic evident in his voice. “I-I. It’s-It’s only like this sometimes. It happens in the morning. I-Is that bad? Tucker said it was normal—Was he joking-I know he jokes a lot—”

Your eyes widen as he tumbles over his words. Oh, dear Lord, you’ve made him self-conscious. 

“N-No, it’s fine Caboose, Tucker wasn’t joking! It’s okay!”

He seems unconvinced, shying away from your hand as it tries to soothe his shoulder. 

“It’s normal, it’s normal for men. I just wasn’t—I didn’t expect it.”

There’s a long beat of reticence. It causes sweat to form on your brow and neck.

“Is it…?” He begins, unsure. “Tucker never said what…”

“He didn’t tell you what it meant…?” You ask, treading lightly. 

You feel the bed shake with small movement. “No,” he replies, shaking his head. “It doesn’t feel bad, but…Do you know why it does that?”

Oh god. This is so not your place. This is the opposite of your place. You aren’t his mother, you’re his friend! You couldn’t—! How the hell were you supposed to explain the facts of life to Caboose—Your  _ crush! _ This is unknown territory, dangerous territory. There’s no telling what will happen. But it sure as hell can’t be good. 

“Uh,” you lick your lips and swallow, your throat dry.

You’re suddenly anxious about someone walking past Caboose’s door, eavesdropping on the less than appropriate conversation.

“I don’t think,” you begin, taking a shaky breath, “I don’t think it’s my place to...To tell you.”

“Why?” Is his oblivious reply.

You bite your lip hard. Your arm shakes as it strains under your weight. You shift your weight onto your knees, careful to avoid brushing his pants.

“It’s not really something friends discuss with each other,” You explain vaguely.

He pauses. “Who do I ask then?” You can hear the confusion and frustration in his voice. You hesitate as you think. You’re not really sure who he could ask. The names Carolina and Washington come to mind, but you don’t believe Carolina would take to it well. Washington might. You could see him having a heart to heart with Caboose about it. He is the fatherly type.

“Wash?” You suggest, voice pitching in uncertainty. 

Caboose hums in interest, mulling your suggestion over in his head. “He’s my friend, though. You said friends don’t talk about it.”

“W-well,” you backtrack, “Washington’s a good friend, but he’s a little like a father figure, right?”

“Not really.” Caboose replies. 

“Y-You don’t see him as a father at all?”

“No.” He says, voice pleasantly unaware of your inner turmoil.

You hang your head, hair falling down over Caboose’s chest like a waterfall. You hear his breath rattle in his chest. 

You smell nice,” he murmurs.

You jerk your head up, visage facing the direction of his voice.

“You always smell nice.”

You feel warmth bloom in your chest at his sweet compliment. It eases the tension in the air. 

“Thanks,” you huff, smiling in embarrassment. 

There’s a long pause. Suddenly the air feels tense again. 

“It doesn’t feel bad,” Caboose says, voice filling the dark void between the two of you. Your eyes search the emptiness meaninglessly. “It’s usually ache-y...Like when I’m hungry.” He reminisces.

If he’s waiting for your own thoughts on the matter, he doesn’t make it known. You don’t supply them either. You don’t even trust yourself to move much less speak.

“It felt...Different though. When you touched it.”

The tips of your ears heat up, the fire licking up your back. You wet your lips, breathing becoming a bit harsh.

“Is it supposed to do that?” He asks. You don’t reply. Here in the dark room, nothing feels real. Maybe you’re not real. Maybe if you don’t say anything, you won’t exist; you’ll just remain in the never-ending expanse of darkness. Like an asteroid in space.

“(Y/n)?”

You let out a shaky breath. You can’t leave his question in the air; you won’t be able to avoid it. Maybe in the dark, where no one can see, it’ll be easier. 

“Yes.” Your voice is small, breathy. “That’s normal. To feel pleasure when someone...when someone touches it.”

“It doesn’t usually do that when I touch it.” He begins, blind to the erotic nature of this conversation. “How come it did that with you?”

You swallow. How the hell were you supposed to answer that?

“I-It does that because it’s supposed to.” That sounded stupid as hell. 

“I don’t understand.” 

You could almost imagine how his face would scrunch up in bewilderment. It was always adorable. The image brought a smile to your face and the ghost of a laugh to your lips.

“Caboose I...Okay, let me start from the beginning. Uh,” Your voice trembles with nerves. “Your di— I mean, penis is made for sexual reproduction.”

“Sexual reproduction,” he parrots.

“Yes, a-and the process of sexual reproduction feels very good. To-To the individuals participating in it.”

“Oooh,” he sings. You feel your heart settle in relief at his comprehensive sound. 

“Does that make sense?” You ask.

“Not really. Why does it feel good?” You can hear the innocence in his voice. 

“Ahh,” You trail off, unsure.

You shift to the left, settling back on your heels to get more comfortable. No longer hovering halfway over Caboose, he rises as well, facing you on the bed. You only see a fuzzy outline of his body in the dark. 

“I’m not sure how to explain it to you,” you admit, feeling self-conscious. You’re grateful that he can’t see how red your face is.

He considers your words quietly. “Oh! I have an idea!” he exclaims, startling you at his sudden volume. “You could show me!”

“W-what, show you?!” You gawk at him, mortified by his suggestion. Your brain starts to run with it, pushing images to the front of your mind. Your stomach flips, heart pounding. 

“Yeah!” He chirps, pleased with his brilliant suggestion.

“Caboose, sex is an intimate act between people. You should only do it with someone you really trust and like—”

“But, I like and trust you!”

You sputter, “Caboose, I really shouldn’t, you don’t know what you’re getting into.”

He huffs, clearly getting impatient and confused at your skittish behavior. “I never know things.” There were a lot of bitter emotions behind his voice. It reminds you of a child complaining to their parents about not being told the whole truth. It only serves to remind you how inexperienced he is in the adult world. 

_ Not so inexperienced. _ You think. He has fought in a war for years. He and his team have been through thick and thin. He’s just blindingly optimistic to the pessimistic characters around him. 

You force yourself to take slow breaths, urging your body to stop shaking with nerves. What you’re about to do isn’t smart, but you’re taking the risk and throwing your inhibitions to the wind. You hardly indulge yourself, what is the harm just this once?

“Okay,” you whisper. The air practically crackles at your consent. “I'll show you.” Caboose straightens up in attention, leaning forward in excitement. In the dark, you can’t see where his lap is and can only guess as you outstretch your hand. You flinch when you find his knee, but force yourself to not shy away. You can’t recall the last time you’ve been so nervous in front of another person. 

Your fingers spread out on his knee, slowly traveling up his thigh. He doesn’t make a sound, patiently waiting for something to happen. With your vision useless, you’re forced to rely on touch to guide you. Somehow that makes this feel more intimate.

You follow the bend of his inner thigh, fingers smoothing out the creases in his pants. You can hear the air escape Caboose’s lips as you close in on the desired location; it makes the hair on the nape of your neck prick. Time stretches, and you find it hard to breathe as you get closer. You feel a little dizzy as if a spell holds you captive. When your digits dance over the fading bulge of his pants, he jumps. 

You twitch your hand back, your captivation is momentarily broken. When he doesn't make a sound of disapproval, you return your extremity cautiously. You tentatively rub your palm against his hidden member. Your ears ring as Caboose releases a trembling exhale. You can feel his gasp ghost over your shoulder. Goosebumps raise along your arms and back.

You palm him with more confidence, nerves alighting with longing. You wanted to hear him more. You bring yourself closer, settling yourself over his legs. Increasing your strokes, you press a little more firmly, fingers following the slope of the material separating the two of you.

Caboose lets out a pitching moan, hips twitching forward. Your thumb blindly caresses the tip of his bulge, located just below his belt. “W-Why does it feel s-so good?” Caboose pants. The bed shakes as he falls back on his hands, leaning his hips forward. You swallow thickly, trying to find your voice. 

“Sex is meant to feel good.” You explain, finding your chest heaving for air as you listen to his whimpers. You lick your lips. You feel greedy. “It can feel better too.”

“H-how?” He croaks. 

“I’ll show you, but only if you feel up to it.” You say, not wanting to pressure him into agreeing.

“Yes!” He gasps, pressing his hips into your hand eagerly. 

Hands reach for his belt, swiftly pulling the two ends apart, opening his pants to you. Your fingers fumble with his zipper, but determinedly pull it down. 

“You’ll need to get your pants off,” you say, struggling just past his hips and thighs. He moves, lifting himself up, a strong hand pushing his waistband down his quads. Your hands earnestly help him, dragging them off his ankles. Now only separated by his boxers, you return yourself on top of him. Instead of massaging him through the material, you pull the band back and dip your hand inside. 

“Ah!” His voice rises. You nearly jerk your hand back in surprise at his loud exclamation.

“Caboose,” you whisper. “Not so loud.” You chide. 

S-Sorry, it just felt —”

“Good?”

“Better than good,” he pants. You feel a nervous grin tug at the corners of your lips. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes, please,” he pleads, flopping down on the bed. The mattress shakes. Encouraged and helpless to the sound of his voice, you return your attention to the matter at hand. Fingers caress heated skin as his breath hisses between his teeth. 

You make sure to give the tip of his engorged head plenty of attention. Swiping your thumb across the tip, you spread the pearled precum. Caboose lets out a squeak, his hips stuttering desperately. 

As the temperature of the room rises, you find sweat beginning to bead between your shoulder blades. Your clothing feels incredibly restricting, heavy. A wave of excitement and heat rolls down your shoulders, landing deep in your belly. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, and your hand falters.

The bed shakes as Caboose frantically pivots his hips, dragging his cock against your palm for a sense of relief. He murmurs your name, scarcely above a whisper, barely intelligible between his panting.  _ God _ , if that isn’t the most intoxicating sound. 

Bending down, you let your breath ghost over his heated skin, his cock twitching with interest. He lets out a tiny gasp as you let the tip of your tongue stroke his head. He’s shifting uncontrollably underneath you. He doesn’t know what to do with hands; they keep grasping the blankets. You hear him whimper as you allow your tongue to flatten and then glide down his shaft. 

Trailing back up to the tip, you fully enclose him inside your mouth. There’s that sound again, his straining voice pitching higher as he stumbles over your name. You hollow your cheeks as you drag your lips up and down. Your fingers massage the base of his cock, fingers brushing through his dark curls just to feel him twitch more underneath you.

Then, holding his hips as still as you can, you place a steady hand on his stomach as you lower yourself further down. Your throat contracts in protest as you guide Caboose deeper.

The sudden stiffness in Caboose’s muscles doesn’t go unnoticed. You feel how he arches under you, carefully trying to not move inside your throat. He’s hesitant, but you can tell by the way his thigh twitches how much he’s restraining himself from plunging further in. That turns you on more than it should; the idea of Caboose using your mouth. It’s an unorthodox mental picture, but not unwelcome. Another wave of arousal crashes into you. You can feel the nerves in your clit tingling in want. You need friction, you need it so bad. 

Pulling your head back up, you allow yourself to take in a deep breath through your nose before going down again. Caboose cautiously allows his hips to be more active as you continue your ministrations. With no negative feedback from you, he feels more comfortable to thrust gently. 

While Caboose experiments with your mouth, you take your hand pressing on his stomach and bring it to your mound. With slow, firm strokes, you tease yourself through your clothes as you help finish Caboose off. 

As he gets closer to his peak, his hips are less coordinated, and his breaths get heavier. You feel his hands jerk up from the bedsheets and grasp your head. You nearly cave in as he presses deeply into your throat. Choking around his length, you remind yourself to keep your jaw loose. 

He’s whining, moaning your name over and over. He makes the sweetest sounds as he thrusts firmly into the back of your throat. God, it’s enough to make you cum on the spot. You groan around him, but it sounds more like a muffled gurgle. The noise must have set him off because he suddenly holds your head still, his strong hands tangling in your hair. He lets out a high pitched groan as he crashes down. The sensation of him finishing inside your mouth causes your fingers to move faster against your hidden clit, desperate to follow him.

Sucking greedily on him, enjoying the taste of his cum, you relish in the way his hips jerk two more times before falling limp. You let him slip from your mouth. Although you didn’t get to finish, you take great satisfaction in swallowing the rest of his seed. You lift your fingers up to your chin to wipe away at the saliva and cum that dribbles down. God, you probably look like a mess. It’s a good thing it’s dark.

“Tha...That was sex?” Caboose sounds out of breath. 

You let out a shaky laugh, heartbeat ringing in your ears. “That was just a blowjob. Sex is different, but it has the same sensation.”

You wish for a moment that you could see him stretched out beneath you, flustered. To see him look at you with those gorgeous, earnest eyes as he lays there spent. The vision is enough to get your heart rate going again, but you try to settle yourself down.

Caboose quiet for a long while, leaving you both to just regain your breath. When he finally speaks, he sounds so hopeful and eager. “Can you show me real sex?”

A shock of electricity fires up your spine, and heat travels up your neck.  _ So much for settling down.  _ You struggle for a moment to get your jaw working. “Only if you’re sure you want to do it with me.”

You can’t see anything, but you hear rustling near his head and assume he’s nodding. “I really,  _ really, _ liked when you gave me a...a…”

“Blowjob,” you offer.

“Blowjob. I want to do sex with you next.”

Now you’re flustered. You’re also very thankful for the darkness that covers up your embarrassment and obviously eager expression. You don’t think you could meet Caboose’s eyes if he said that to you in daylight. 

“I’d-I’d really like to do that too.”

“Can...Can we wait for a bit? I feel really tired…” He asks.

“Oh, yeah, of course, we can wait. It’s normal to feel spent after climaxing,” you respond, fretting over your overly greedy desires.

Caboose brings you out of your spinning thoughts at his question. “Climaxing?” 

You raise your eyes to his general direction. “Yeah, it’s that really good feeling you have before it kinda...goes away?” You offer, unsure how to explain it.

“Ooh,” he hums. “I think Tucker calls that nutting.”

_ Jesus Christ. _

You find a laugh bubbling up inside your chest at the absurdity of his words. It was just too much. 

“What?” Caboose giggles as well. He’s not entirely sure why you're laughing, but your laugh must be contagious because he laughs with you. When you finally get a hold of yourself, you take a deep breath, flopping down on the mattress next to Caboose. 

“Nothing,” You answer him, “It’s just strange to hear you say things like Tucker does.”

He hums happily.

You stare up at the ceiling, the darkness consuming every amount of depth and color. You half expected to see stars littering the dark expanse like when you’re traveling to and from Cephane. It was always a strange comfort, knowing how expanse the universe was when you looked out your cargo ship's window. Those stars acted as a welcoming presence for you on your lonely trip. With their absence now, you felt disoriented and a little self-conscious.

Now that the high of arousal is gone, seeds of doubt begin to grow. Should you really have done that? What if Caboose never had any feelings for you, and you just made things more complicated between the two of you? You may have even unintentionally made him think he likes you now. Your chest feels a little tight. You could have royally screwed up your friendship—

You feel rough fingers interweave themselves with yours. The sensation startles you out of your thoughts, and you swing your head towards Caboose. You can’t see anything, and you find that you’re starting to hate it. You really want to see Caboose’s face right now. You want to know what his expression is. How he looks at you. 

“Caboose?” You rasp.

“Yeah, (Y/n)?” His voice sounds so sweet and relaxed. Like warm honey. 

“Can I turn on the light?”

“Yep!” 

You sit up, hand still clinging to his, as you blindly shuffle to the edge of the bed. You can hear him shifting behind you, arm moving to follow your intertwined hands. Blindly, you grope for the lamp on his bedside table. You find it’s neck and trail up to the bulb. You hesitate, fingers brushing the switch. 

You don’t know why you are so nervous. 

Swallowing your fear, you press the toggle. Your eyes strain from the sudden brightness from the tiny lamp in Caboose’s room. The once dark and oppressive universe you were drowning in is now bathed in warm, superficial sunlight. 

Your eyes immediately cast behind you. 

Caboose is lying on his side, nearly spilling off the bed. His arm reaches out, the line of it connecting to your hand and continuing up to your shoulder. Like the safety lines on a spaceship, he pulls you back in. 

It’s so odd. The look in his eyes. It’s not entirely as innocent as you remember, but there’s a purity there that screams curiosity and love. The feeling in your chest is overwhelming as he guides you back to him. He pulls you over him, like a blanket, before allowing you to topple over on your side so you’re both facing each other on the mattress. It’s tight but intimate. You have to stay pressed against each other like this or risk pushing the other off. 

You stare at each other for a while, studying the other. Despite the quiet, the air buzzes with activity. You wonder briefly if you should go in for a kiss or not. 

“I’ve always liked you.” 

You blink. The words linger in the air. For a terrifying moment, with how quiet it is, you thought maybe you had murmured those words. But no, it was definitely Caboose. His lips are still parted from his confession, his eyes staring at you in interest and deep contemplation. 

“You’re so fun to be around. You make me really happy,” he continues. “My heart’s always...Beating really fast around you. It’s doing it now.”

You find yourself at a loss of words.  _ What’s happening? _

“Do you like me, too, (Y/n)?” He asks earnestly.

The air is knocked out of you. Your tongue feels like lead as your brain slowly starts to catch up with the situation. You stare at him in wonder. His beautiful and innocent blue eyes.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You said that sex is what people who like each other do. But I like all my friends...But I don’t…” He pauses, face scrunching up. “I don’t want to do this with them. Why?” He looks pensive, as though he is trying to solve a puzzle.

“Well,” you clear your throat and lick your dried lips. “A lot of people only have one person they want to have sex with specifically. It’s usually someone they really care about. They trust them enough because they love each other.”

He soaks up this information, his eyes lighting up like the stars in the night sky. He looks a little silly with his eyes that big while sporting a wide understanding grin. It warms your soul, seeing him like that.

“Oh!” He begins, “So I love you!”

You think your heart just palpitated. Maybe even stopped altogether. You feel like it's been doing that a lot within the past eight hours. A large blossom of warmth erupts in your chest, so much so that you think maybe it hurts. 

“C-Cab-Caboose,” you feel like you can’t breathe.

He pulls you into his chest. “I love you!” He proclaims again, firmer, a bit louder.

You blink, finding your lashes wetted by tears you didn’t know were there. You murmur his name again, but this time you cling to him. Feeling his warmth against you, you’ve never felt so complete.

“Do you love me too?” He questions eagerly, but so sweetly.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you let out a puff of air, squeezing him tighter against you. “I love you too, Caboose.”

He pulls back from you, foreheads nearly touching. “So, since we love each other, should we have sex now?”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle. You can recognize the look of male eagerness in his eyes despite their pure nature. There was no doubt in your mind that he was sure of what he wanted. “Yeah, if you’re feeling up for it.” You reply.

His eyes light up in excitement. “Yes! Yes—I-I-I am!” He trips over his words in his enthusiasm. It’s adorable and causes your heart to swell.

Your shaking with nerves again, breath uneven as you become overly aware of every sensation. You can feel the half-hard press of his girth against your thigh. You can feel the cold slick of his precum and your spit lying against your stomach. A shiver runs up your back, the feeling of cold air against your belly causes you to glance down. Your shirt has risen up, exposing your stomach to the slight chill. Caboose takes an interest in your exposed skin as well.

However, his approach is as careful as a cat yet as clumsy as a young pup. His fingers awkwardly trail over your stomach, flitting about like a nervous animal. His expression is keen with interest but nervous. He’s not sure what to do for you. 

Taking pity, you gently wrap your free hand around his and guide it to flatten against you. His palm is rough and warm against the smooth of your stomach. You both meet each other’s gazes. Nervous energy crackles between the two of you, but it doesn’t dampen the mood. If anything, it causes another prickle of goosebumps to rise up your back.

Knowing he’s trusting you to guide him gives you a swell of emotions you don’t have time to label. So you focus on how his fingers twitch as you slowly drag his hand up and up. His knuckles disappear one by one under your shirt. You can feel his heart race against you. This close, you can feel every little twitch, every shaky breath as you guide him up to your bra.

You’re not sure if he knows what’s underneath entirely, but he seems to instinctually recognize that this, too, is part of the intimate act. A firm presence on your thigh confirms this. He’s gotten hard again.

A small smirk pulls at the corners of your mouth as a tiny seed of pride settles in your belly. You never actually thought you’d get to this stage with Caboose. Knowing that he’s into this just as much as you are is thrilling as well as flattering.

As you guide his hand to your breasts, you feel the intensity of his stare as he experimentally feels around the fabric. In the beginning, he merely pets the fabric of the bra, palm still flat against your skin. Smiling, you curl your fingers around his and whisper.

“Gently squeeze and massage.” 

His eyes flick up to meet your gaze briefly. He looks frazzled, but with your instructions, resolve steels over his eyes as he does as you say. You murmur a few more helpful tips to him as he massages you through your bra. It’s tantalizingly slow, but as he continues, his grip becomes confident and firm. 

He presses himself further against your thigh, and you both pant with exhilaration. Sweat forms between your shoulder blades once more, causing your skin to itch. Soon the confinements of your clothing get the best of you. 

Caboose pauses his ministrations impatiently as you stop him. Your hands fly to the hem of the shirt, pulling it over your shoulders. You fling it into the dark, uncaring. Now freed from the material, Caboose stares in wonderment at your bra. It isn't anything special, but you have a feeling he’s never seen a woman this down-dressed in front of him before. The thought that he’d be even more mesmerized by you without it strikes you. You follow that train of thought and bring your fingers behind your back, unlatching the clasps. The clothing loosens.

Caboose watches you silently, curious. Although, his hands hover closely, twitching. Slipping out of the offending clothing, you toss that too, allowing the man in front of you to see you fully. He sucks in a breath.

“Wow, you’re really different from me,” He murmurs.

“I’m different in more ways,” You pant. You bring your leg between his, enjoying the look of pleasure that overtakes his face as you drag your thigh against his length. “Want me to show you?”

“Yes,” he rasps, hands gripping your hips to keep you there. 

“Help me get out of these pants first.”

He groans impatiently. You laugh at his response, reassuring him that it won’t be much longer. Unbuttoning your pants, you shimmy your way out of them (as well as your panties) but have to sit up to slide them off your calves. As you rise up, Caboose sits upright to follow you, hands moving to your better-exposed breasts.

You pause from tossing your trousers as you let him explore you. His hands feel so much better this way. You let out a pleased sigh, causing him to catch your gaze, surprised by your sound. “Feels good,” you murmur. 

Excited by your encouragement, he plays with you a little more roughly. You hum as his calloused fingers scrape your nipples. As they peak in the cold air, he takes a particular interest in them. Using his previously learned skills from earlier, he applies them here. 

You lower yourself back on the bed, your heat pulsing between your legs as he follows, eyes not leaving you once. Heat travels up your neck. Desperate once more for friction, you trail your hand down to your curls. You tease yourself by circling your clit as Caboose is circling your nipples with his thumb.

Delicately pinching your nipple, he checks for your reaction. At your whimper of approval, he does it again, moving atop you for more access. The weight of him settling over you causes a bout of wetness to meet your fingers as you trace your slit. 

As Caboose relishes the softness of your flesh, you become increasingly aware of how close his girth is to your core. You swear you cn almost feel it’s heat emanating from between his legs. The anticipation of having inside you was making you desperate.

You stop Caboose’s hands, much to his confusion and tangible disappointment. His sour expression shifts almost immediately when your fingers dance over his cock. He shivers, moving closer to you. “Are you ready?” You murmur.

His eyes lock onto your own, and your stomach flutters at the desire that flashes back at you. It is a desperate and restless look. Like putty in your hands, you easily maneuver his shirt over his head and remove his boxers (still hanging on his hips). Then you take his cock in hand, guiding the engorged head to your wet entrance. He lets out a needy sound as his head glides against your slick. 

“Try to go slow,” you tell him, more for your own sake than his. You didn’t want him to get over-excited and push in too roughly. He nods, but he’s barely listening. He watches, mesmerized as you rub him up and down your cunt. His arms are shaking as he holds himself up above you.

Deciding you’ve both waited long enough, you line him up and instruct him to push forward. He groans, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard, as he’s enveloped by your warmth. He drops suddenly on top of you, but not enough to crush you. Instead, he wraps his arms around your torso, hands clenching. Your arms are awkwardly crushed between the two of you as he takes the initiative and finishes the act of sheathing himself. 

You whimper in pleasure at the stretch. His hips stutter as he bottoms out. Your toes curls as you feel his head press snugly against your cervix. It was just the right amount of pressure. Wriggling your wrists and arms free, you swiftly wrap your hands around his shoulders, clutching at his back as he pants in your ear.

“Wha-what do—” He can hardly get those two words out, but you have an idea of what he means to ask. 

“Move your h—huh— hips, back and forth,” you stutter, gasping as he unintentionally presses further in. Your thighs shake as they spread apart to accommodate Caboose’s waist.

He pulls back, gasping as he goes. He doesn’t get but halfway out before he slides back in, eager to close the distance. “Am I—? Like this?” He breathes heavily, following the same pattern.

“Ye-yes,” You pant. 

Groaning, voice lilting higher in a whine, Caboose moves slowly. You can feel him struggling to keep his movements steady. “You can go faster if y-you want, ah—” you choke around your words as his cock alights nerves inside you. “Don’t have to be gentle either, just do— just do what feels best,” You urge, pressing your heels into his ass. He takes this advice quicker than any of the other times.

As he moves, his thrusts become more consistent and more energetic. You cry out when a harsh thrust meets your hips. Gone is the quiet and timid atmosphere from earlier, now there is only desperate electricity. The only sounds you're aware of is his breath in your ear, the slap of skin on skin, and the bed squeaking in protest. 

You cry out his name in encouragement, fingers clawing at his back as spikes of pleasure shoot up your spine and slam into your pelvis. Your neck grows damp as Caboose pants and huffs into it. Reminded of his mouth, you experience a moment of clarity and motivation. Adjusting yourself as best you can, trapped underneath him as you are, you grab his face and bring it up. 

His eyes are hooded, and his mouth slightly agape. The lamplight casts a halo around him, reflecting off his blue eyes as he gazes deeply into your own. They burn with passion. You’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Closing the distance in desperation, you press your lips against his. It isn't perfect, in fact, it is sloppy, but that doesn't deter you. Caboose stumbles through the act, but he’s just as determined as you to reciprocate.

Nothing is real anymore, nothing but heated kisses, clutching hands and grinding hips. Electricity begins to rise in your belly, growing with each slide of Caboose’s cock. You writhe underneath him, meeting his hips with each stroke. 

If you don’t reach your peak soon, you think you might die. Thankfully, Caboose has more libido for his first time than you thought, because within seconds, you reach your crescendo. You break away from Caboose’s lips as your voice rises. His grip tightens around you, his hips moving just a hair faster. If you were in your right mind, you might have realized he did it just to hear you scream. However, you’re a little distracted by the sudden burst of pleasure that consumes you.

You shout out, overwhelmed. Caboose groans in your ear at your noise, pressing his face in your neck as he gives a few final thrusts before he hilts inside you. A rush of warmth fills you. Your squirm, lightheaded as you come down from your high, only half aware that cum is dribbling out where the two of you are joined.

Your ears ring for quite a long time before you’re able to make out the sound of Caboose huffing beside you. His curls stick to his forehead as he raises it from your neck. He struggles to get off you and almost doesn’t manage before you help him roll over. You bite your lip at the feeling of him slipping out of you. The bed shakes as he flops his weight down beside you.

Chest to chest, you stare at each other, catching your breath. You could get lost in those eyes, you think. Like the universe above, his eyes are dark, but the glint of the dim lamplight shows the intricate patterns of his irises. Beautiful, just like the nebulas you admired from afar. You begin to find similarities between his eyes of the stars above when Caboose breaks the comfortable silence.

“I want to have sex a lot.”

You blink, momentarily blindsided by his words, before grinning like an idiot. You let out an uncontrollable giggle. Caboose cracks a grin as well. “What?” He asks.

“You’re just cute.” You reply. He gives you a happy smile.

“So can we?” he asks, unperturbed by your laughing fit.

You smile a little wider. “Definitely.”

Like a little kid, his face lights up, and he crushes you into a hug. “Yes!” He says excitedly by your ear. You let out another giggle, returning his fierce hug, enjoying his warmth. You rest contently in his arms, drifting off into sleep as exhaustion pulls at your bones. Looks like you’ll finally be catching some Z’s after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will probably stay as only 2 chapters. While I could continue this with more smutty scenarios, I've got a long list of fanfics I'd like to start on and only a summer to get a head start. Might come back to this later on if the inspiration strikes, but no guarantees :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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